


Another Bite

by MariaPriest



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Episode-of-Another-TV-Show-Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPriest/pseuds/MariaPriest
Summary: Does that actor onStar Trekreally look like Hutch? And why is Starsky so "hungry"?
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson/David Starsky
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Another Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the 2020 Starsky & Hutch Advent Calendar.

“Hurry up, Starsk! The show’s about to start.”

“Keep your pants on… oh, but you ain’t got no pants to keep on.” Starsky snickered at his clever comment, well aware that Hutch probably rolled his eyes or shook his head in annoyance or both. He poured generous amounts of salt and melted butter over the warm popcorn, then gave it a quick toss with his hands. He grabbed the two open bottles of beer in one hand and cradled the bowl against his bare skin with the other. He walked into the living room, sighing with lust on seeing Hutch’s naked long legs, crossed at the ankles, feet with those incredibly suckable toes propped up on the coffee table.

_If only his robe was open just a little further up. One of these days, I’ll convince him his birthday suit is all he needs to wear after our lovemaking._

“Hey, Thor, take the beers, willya?”

Hutch did as asked and set them on the table, but not before running his dilating eyes over Starsky’s nude body. “Thor? What’s with calling me Thor?”

“Well, he’s the god of strength and you carried all 170 lovable pounds of me to bed without breakin’ a sweat.”

“You’re only one-sixty now, Starsk,” Hutch said with a mildly sour note in his tone.

It still bothered them both that Starsky hadn’t gotten back to his pre-shooting weight. That, along with the latest addition to his scar collection, were constant reminders of that extremely trying time in their lives. On the other hand, they both owed Gunther a freakish debt of gratitude: he had inadvertently catapulted them to the next level of their relationship and more happiness than they could ever have imagined

“And then there’s your hammer,” said Starsky as he sat exercising caution next to Hutch, leaving no room for air between them. “You really nailed me so good earlier.” His wide grin underlined and capitalized his satisfaction with Hutch’s most recent use of his tool.

Hutch laughed. “You are a nutcase, babe. Pretty sure Cabrillo has an open bed with your name on it.”

Starsky settled the bowl carefully on his lap. He offered one buttery hand to Hutch, who promptly sucked each finger clean. The bowl moved a little.

“Uh… what’re we watchin’?” Starsky came perilously close to stammering.

Hutch went for his lover’s other hand. “ _Star Trek_. It’s that episode with Vaal and all the pale people.” As Hutch debuttered those fingers, Starsky could feel Hutch’s sky blue eyes on him as he watched his lover’s adept mouth working his fingers.

Starsky whimpered like a love-sick puppy. Without looking at his partner, he knew Hutch was smirking. And the bowl was now teetering precariously.

Starsky reluctantly took his hand back. “Uhm… that episode’s _The Apple_.”

Hutch licked his lips with long, slow strokes, this time provoking a mewl from Starsky. “How do you know the title?” He steadied the bowl and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Dunno. Fffforgot.” _Don’t know much of anything right now._ “Uh… Hutch? Do we hafta watch this now?”

Hutch crunched and swallowed his mouthful of popcorn. “Yeah. I like this episode. Besides, you need to learn patience. So put your perpetual sex machine in idle for an hour. I’ll make it worth your while.” This time, he licked the salty butter from his own fingers -- slowly and sensuously.

Starsky, trying to control his urge to jump Hutch’s bones immediately, pondered the possibilities and decided that he could shift into neutral for an hour. “‘Kay. But we don’t watch the credits.”

“Deal. Now shut up and watch the show.”

Starsky dug into the popcorn and watched and ate without much enthusiasm, his mind more on what was going to happen later.

After the third crewman died, Starsky said, “Ya know, Blintz, almost everybody who gets killed on this series is wearin’ a red shirt. Maybe I oughta rethink my wardrobe.”

Hutch chuckled then kissed the side of Starsky’s head. “Nah. You’ve been wearing red for years so you’re good. Besides, that’s a good color on you.”

Starsky put his head on Hutch’s shoulder. “Skin tone is better. On both of us. With dark brown accents on me.”

This time, Hutch howled with laughter. “Maybe next vacation we should go to a nudist colony.”

“I get enough of other naked bodies in the gym showers, so I’ll pass.”

“Good point. We’ll think of some other place.”

A few minutes later, the beer gone and only old maids left in the bowl, they watched the Enterprise landing party enter the village. “Betcha nobody there is nicknamed ‘Blondie,’” Starsky observed. “Reminds me of those Cath’lic girls at PS 223. They were all named ‘Mary.’ At least they went by their middle names too so we didn’t get twenty of ‘em answering at the same time.”

Hutch snickered. “Bet you romanced every one of ‘em and just called them ‘Mary,’ so you wouldn’t get them confused and mad at you.”

“Ah, babe, you know me too well.”

A few more scenes passed before Starsky voiced another observation. “Hey, Hutch, that guy spyin’ on Chekov and Martha kinda looks like you!”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. Could be your twin. Only difference is he’s, well, a little scrawny, an’ he sounds squeaky. Like he’s going through poo-perty.”

Without warning, Hutch kissed Starsky’s cheek in an imitation of the action on the screen. “Is that pleasant to you?”

Catching on instantly, Starsky chuckled and said, “It is pleasant, Blondie.”

Now they kissed properly. The kiss quickly escalated to one of passion and need. The popcorn bowl toppled to the floor when Starsky turned and put his hand inside Hutch’s robe.

Hutch moaned. “Starsk, babe, love you,” he panted. He uncrossed his legs, knocking the bottles to the floor.

Starsky, his voice husky with desire, whispered, “I ain’t waitin’ for the credits.” He slid his hand down the soft, tanned skin. “God, Hutch, I love you so much. I can’t get enough of you.” As he licked and nibbled Hutch’s hard nipples, he spread open the robe until even the sash at Hutch’s waist had fallen away. Then he was cupping his lover’s scrotum. He began gently rolling its occupants as if they were a pair of dice he was coaxing to give him a winner in a craps game. “I’m hungry for another bite of these crabapples.”

Hutch snorted at Starsky’s wordplay. “ _Crab_ apples?”

“Yeah, too small to be reg’lar-sized apples. Not like that tree trunk ya got there.”

“You really know how to compliment a guy,” Hutch said with a smile before pressing their lips together again. Between ever increasing passionate kisses, he whispered, “Good thing... they’re... already peeled.”

The End

October 2020

**Author's Note:**

> To see the graphic created for the story by the Calendar artists, click [here](https://advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net/2020/calendar/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/The-Apple-combined.jpg).
> 
> Transcript of _The Apple_ is at http://chakoteya.net/StarTrek/38.htm
> 
> Thanks to Flamingo for a good once-over.


End file.
